


Sleep Tonight, And Tomorrow We'll Make it Better

by GillyTweed



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cuddles, F/F, reassurance, sad sorta fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:30:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillyTweed/pseuds/GillyTweed
Summary: Lexa feels the weight of the world on her shoulders, and Clarke reminds her to take a step back and rest.





	Sleep Tonight, And Tomorrow We'll Make it Better

**Author's Note:**

> So, yesterday sucked with the whole Supergirl cast fiasco, and so I wanted to write something sorta fluffy (I don't think I succeeded exactly, but I tried) to make people feel better. I personally was feeling kinda shitty about the whole thing so I decided to write Clexa cause that's what I'm more comfortable with, so hopefully a good chunk of people who also ship supercorp will see this despite not being supergirl stuff

Lexa was tired. So very tired. Everyday felt like she was fighting a sand dune with a trowel. Once she gets rid of one scoop of sand, another simply falls into place. It was a constant battle, and sometimes she could take a step back and see the progress she’d made, the small indent in the giant pile, but today wasn’t one of those days. Instead, she felt weighed down, pressed and crushed under the heaviness of her responsibility to her people.

She sighed as she dragged herself to her room, her shoulder guard feeling much bulkier than normal. She had to stifle a yawn as she reached her door, her exhaustion becoming harder to ignore.

She was tired. Her bones ached and a migraine was slowly starting to pound in her temple. She felt shaky, her skin feeling just that little bit too cold while her insides were too warm. She felt sobs climb in the back of her throat but pushed them down. She’d only let herself break when she was safe under her covers, shrouded and protected by the darkness, when she had the long hours of the night to rebuild herself for the struggles of tomorrow.

She entered and shut her door with a shaky sigh, her hand trembling as it pushed at the door knob. She let herself sniff a little, swallowing thickly; just a little bit longer.

“Lexa? You okay?” Lexa started, turning just a bit too fast. Clarke sat in the sitting area, a questioning look on her face and a sketch book sitting in her lap.

Sometimes Lexa forgot Clarke even existed when the day became too hectic. The blonde just seemed too good to be true. So soft and caring, strong and steadfast. She was like a dream that left a sweet taste after waking. Only she was real, and she was slowly standing, her look of inquiry turning into concern. Lexa couldn’t help but swallow again, her eyes watering.

“Hey, are you okay?” Then Clarke was around her, pulling her into her arms, pressing their bodies together so Lexa could feel her warmth. She shuddered, burying her face in Clarke’s shoulder.

“No…” Her voice trembled as she admitted her weakness, her tears welling faster and faster until they silently soaked the blonde’s shirt. Everything just felt like too much; too much pain and sorrow, and too much sand to dig through to make progress.

She heaved a sobbing breath, her mouth tasting acrid as she shuddered. Clarke somehow pulled her closer all while fiddling with the straps that secured her coat and guard. They came away after a few second, pooling on the floor in a heap. She knew she should feel something about the guard, a symbol of her commandership and the power she holds, being on the floor, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She clutched at Clarke as she was led to a couch and eased back into the comfortable cushions. A fur was quickly wrapped around her shaking shoulders. She curled her legs up to her chest as she rested her forehead against her knees. She felt ill, her stomach clenching in hunger from not eating since early that morning, but she knew if she tried to eat it would only make her sick.

“Hey, here, drink this.” Clarke brushed a few strands of hair from the brunette’s forehead, all while pressing a cool glass of water into her hand. Lexa blinked, not having realized the blonde had gotten up in the first place, but drank anyway, letting the water wash away the taste of salt and stress.

Clarke gently pried the empty glass from her hand when she was done, setting it on the coffee table, before pulling her in close. Her head rested against Clarke’s collarbone while the rest of her stretched out atop the blonde. She sniffled again, but took a deep breath and let Clarke’s warmth soak into her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Warm fingers threaded through her hair, gently untangling knots and snarls, all while offering a light scalp massage. Clarke’s other hand gently rested at the nape of her neck, massaging the muscles gently.

“Not really.” Her voice was thick, throat clogged with emotion. If she was being honest, she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d talk about if she wanted to. There was so much stress and pain and never enough progress and so many steps taken back that she would have no idea where to start, so she simply sighed in relief when she felt Clarke nod, accepting her answer immediately.

“Well, whatever it is, we’ll fix it tomorrow.” Lexa couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped.

“I don’t think it’s something that can be fixed in a day, Klark.” She felt Clarke shift, and suddenly felt panic at the thought of her leaving, then the same gentle fingers in her hair moved and tipped up her chin so she was looking at the blonde.

“It doesn’t matter what it is. Sleep tonight, and tomorrow we’ll make it better.” Clarke sounded so certain, so sure, that Lexa couldn’t help but believe, even if it was for a second before doubt set in. But that one second was relieving, just enough to sigh and let her muscles relax so she was boneless and sprawled across the blonde.

Lexa knew it would take work. She still had a long way to go, but she’d made progress. A small indent in the ever growing pile of things she needed to accomplish, but an indent none the less. Clarke was right. Tonight they’d sleep, they’d let her tears dry and her body rest, then tomorrow they’d regroup and begin again. 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to talk feel free to hit me up on tumblr @GillyTweed


End file.
